


Some Unspoken Thing

by sugarplumfairy



Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: Creampie, F/M, Mild Praise Kink, PWP, Retribution Spoilers, Second Time, Vaginal Sex, Vanilla, no betas we die like men, ricardo ortega and f sidestep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 09:08:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20328625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarplumfairy/pseuds/sugarplumfairy
Summary: They did it once in the dark, they do it again in the light.





	Some Unspoken Thing

**Author's Note:**

> my brain: ok let's write porn!  
my soft, yearning heart: but let's make it tender

_Come to bed,_ he says.

And she does and she doesn’t know why – well, she _does_ know why, it’s because Ricardo’s looking at her with those big brown eyes like she’s the only precious thing in the world and _damn that man_ – but it’s right, it’s wrong, it’s complicated. And just a little more right.

And now she’s in his bed, in his steady arms, and his lips have found the skin under her turtleneck sweater and she’s thinking – How can he stand it? How can he trace the orange circuits with his tongue and not feel disgust? Like he’s fucking an imposter? Like he’s fallen for a trick?

And then she remembers what he’d said, because how could she ever forget?

_I’m holding you right now and you’re warm and alive and Jesus, your heart is beating so fast. Jess, that’s human enough for me._

And she can’t help it. She cries.

Immediately his touch disappears from her body, then reappears to cradle her face.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Ricardo says, and he wipes a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “Was that too fast?”

She tries to talk and chokes on air instead, so she shakes her head no. What she wants to say is: _I still feel like I’m dreaming, but I don’t want to wake up this time._

“Scared tears?”

A firm no.

“Sad tears?”

That’s almost right, but he’ll stop if she says yes and that’s the last thing she wants.

“Happy tears?”

Yes. Kind of. He senses the hesitation.

“Sappy tears?”

She barks out a short laugh and nods, and that’s something he hasn’t heard in seven years. She used to laugh as a reflex, laugh in response to almost anything, before she was torn apart and jigsawed back together.

But of course she doesn’t notice that he noticed, because his brain is full of static. Just like she doesn’t know that he wants to say: _Jess,_ _I’m sorry we couldn’t do this earlier._

And she doesn’t trust her voice to say: _Ricardo, I’m glad we can do this now._

“Do you want me to keep going?” he asks, because he doesn’t have the courage to say the other thing.

She tugs at his arms and pulls him into a kiss. It’s soft at first, and Ricardo holds her like he’s afraid she’ll break. But then her fingers twist into his hair, pull at his dark curls, and he presses into her like he’s trying to meld them together by sheer force of will.

His hands sneak under the hem of her sweater, smooth over her stomach. She has a bit more fat there than she did in her twenties, but Ortega doesn’t seem to mind. He tugs at the fabric, a silent request for more access. She let him undress her the first time, but that was in the dark. Now the lights are on, and he remembers the tremble in her voice when she whispered, _This is the hardest part._

She unwinds her fingers from his hair, breaks the kiss for an agonizing moment to lift the sweater from its bottom hem and peel it off. She unclasps her bra, and when Ortega eases it off of her she has a sudden urge to cover herself.

“No, no, hey, it’s okay,” he says, and he gently holds her wrist to stop her. “I want to look at you. Will you let me?”

She allows him to guide her hand up over her head, out of the way, and he intertwines his fingers with hers. His gaze is… warm. While the cold eyes at the Farm examined her, dissected her naked form, Ricardo is exploring. Mapping.

He traces a finger along the lines of orange ink, where they follow the curve of her breast, where they dip down towards her navel. He starts to say something, fails. He meets her gaze and bends down to place a single, slow kiss on her lips.

“_Mierda_,” he says. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.” She doesn’t have to read his mind to know how much he means it. It’s in his eyes.

She realizes, with a suddenness that stirs something in her heart, that she’s never been called _beautiful_ before.

“Stop it,” she croaks out. “You’re gonna make me cry again.”

Ortega smiles, the same dopey smile that makes her hate him, and love him, and want to kiss him. “I’m only telling the truth.”

She bites her lip to stop herself from making a remark. She makes a vague motion towards him with her free hand. “Take this off.”

“Oh? Getting greedy?”

“Just take it off, dummy.”

He kisses her one more time before he sits up to take off his shirt. She fumbles with the button on her tweed trousers, but he’s back before she can finish. He presses a kiss to her belly, trails his lips over the circuit that winds up between the valley of her breasts and she shivers, gasps.

She feels him move to her right breast, feels his hot breath on her skin, her only warning before his tongue follows. Her hand jumps to the back of his neck, fingers scrabble in the short curls there. He catches her nipple in his teeth and the nails of her other hand leave little angry crescents in his shoulder. They didn’t get to do this last time.

It’s warm and wet, a new sensation. A _good_ one. 

“R-Ricardo…”

He responds with a pleased hum that sends another jolt of electric pleasure through her. She finally gets the button and shimmies out of her pants, and Ortega’s fingers find the wet spot in her panties as soon as they’re revealed.

He releases her breast, there’s a bit of saliva hanging from his lower lip. When he speaks, his voice is husky with lust.

“We have our whole lives for more foreplay. But I need you _right now_, Jess_._”

Jess nods and looks down at his belt. “Can I take them off?”

He grins and shifts forward to help her reach. Her hands are shaky with nerves, but she manages to undo the belt and pop the button. She looks up at him before she tugs down his zipper. He looks like he’s holding his breath.

She tries to tug down his pants but the angle is awkward and physics stops her. Instead she just reaches for his cock. He’s hard already, and when she gives him a solid tug Ortega sucks in air through his teeth. He pushes his pants and boxers down, and Jess has to stop for a moment to appreciate the view.

He’s still all muscle, all sweaty, tawny skin with a happy trail of dark curls that starts at his navel and continues down to where her hand grips his thick cock. With the stupid mustache gone she can pretend that they did this seven years ago, that they didn’t wait for the joints to creak and the hair to go grey.

“Like what you see?” Ortega asks cheekily, ruining the mood as always.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” she responds, and tries to hide her blush. “Get these off of me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, and he drags her panties off of her hips, down her legs, off her ankles. And just like that, all the layers are gone. No barriers between them.

Neither of them make a move at first. They both know that there’s a lot of unspoken things there.

She wants to say, _It’s so different with the lights on._

He wants to say, _Thank you for trusting me._

Instead he slots himself between her legs and says, “Are you ready?”

She puts her free hand on his shoulder, squeezes it. “Yes, yes.”

She guides his hips forward, guides his cock to her entrance, and she squeaks when he breaches her. It’s such a fucking cute sound that he wants to bottle it up, keep it forever, but of course once she catches her breath she’s quick to comment, “Don’t you dare say anything, Ricardo Ortega, or I’m gonna leave you pent up and horny with only your right hand for company.”

“I plead the fifth,” he says, and then he starts to move.

She’s slick, panting, one hand splayed across his abdomen, over a puckered scar, and the other carving trails into his back. He’s lost in sensation, he tries to keep a steady tempo but he keeps faltering and he keeps chasing, chasing, chasing.

He looks down at her and her eyes are closed, so he keeps looking and finds the scar from the fight with Psychopathor, the neon tattoo that runs perpendicular to it that had made her refuse treatment. He places a hand on her hip, part of his palm on her lower belly. She makes fun of her aging body, but she’s still muscular underneath the new layer of fat that she complains about.

He kneads one of her breasts with his other hand and it’s so soft yet firm and _Jesus,_ he thinks to himself. _How can she hate this body? She’s Jess Jue, Sidestep. She’s the hottest woman on Earth._

He knows she can’t hear his thoughts, but for a second he doubts because her eyes crack open and find his, hazel and dark with arousal. She smiles.

“Like what you see?” she asks, imitating him.

He laughs, leans down and cradles her head with his hands. “You know I do.”

Her heart flutters and he kisses her hard. His teeth graze her lip, she gasps into his mouth, an exchange of air. He thrusts faster, harder. He’s strong, and the mattress suffers for it.

“Don’t give yourself a cramp,” she says, and instead of a witty rebuttal he just laughs and buries his face in the crook of her neck.

He takes a deep breath of her scent and leaves open mouthed kisses on the sensitive skin there. “I’m getting close,” he whispers. “How about you?”

“Not quite,” she says, and she massages his scalp as he continues his ministrations.

“Let me help you,” he says, and he finds her free hand, interlaces their fingers. “Help me find your clit.”

She laughs, bubbly and bright, and guides their hands down. She brushes the side of Ricardo’s thumb against her clit and shivers at the contact.

“Ricardo Ortega needs help pleasing a woman? I thought I’d never see the day.”

He releases her hand and starts to rub her with confidence, which earns him an uncharacteristically loud moan in response. “I only wanted to find it faster. We’re kind of on a clock here.”

He gets to work, and for a while there’s only the sound of their heavy breaths, the wet noise of their sex, the occasional grunt or moan.

Until Ortega says, “I’m sorry, I can’t hold back any longer.”

Jess kisses the outside of his ear. “It’s all right, Ricardo. Cum in me.”

“Oh, fuck!” The invitation catches him by surprise and launches him over the edge of orgasm. His hips still, his cock deep inside her, her legs crossed behind him to keep him there, and she holds him tighter as she feels him fill her up.

When he’s empty she lets him go and he pulls out of her. A glob of his cum leaks out of her pussy, settles into a puddle on the sheets. They stop and just breathe for a moment.

“Well, that was fun,” Jess says, and she starts to get up.

Ricardo catches her wrist and pins it down on the bed.

“Oh, no. You should know me better than that,” he says. “I don’t leave unsatisfied customers.”


End file.
